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This morning I decided to try a 40 minute practice to stretch my nervous system. Standing poses, intermediate to kapotasana, a handful of ustrasana variations from Matthew Sweeney’s Vinyasa Krama, urdhva dhanurasana, dropbacks to the dune, abbreviated closing. Then a 15 minute savasana. Total time: 55 minutes.

Yes, my nervous system relaxed. But boy, does it have a way to go.

Waylon… um, “helped” from inside his crate in the yoga room. I gave him a beef tendon to keep him busy. Supposedly, they amuse puppies and small dogs for hours. Yeah, well, not so much. First off, he kept dropping it outside the crate, meaning I stopped three or four times during standing poses to return the thing to his crate. Then he managed to swallow the whole thing within about 15 minutes of having it returned to him. Yeah. Hours of chewing fun. Not.

I guess he was exhausted after watching me retrieve his toy, because he promptly fell asleep. Which is actually the ideal state for a puppy during yoga practice.

At that point, the relaxation really began.

P.S. Now that I’m done and have had a cup of tea and am writing, I feel kind of guilty for not having done “enough.” What’s that really about? I’m kind of afraid to really look at that. I suspect it is rooted in personal insecurity and my impulse to achieve and do more more more!

Definitely related to what Owl was talking about when she said:

Westerners have reinterpreted the practice in a way that takes away from the basic keys of

RELAXATION

and

CLEANSING THE NERVOUS SYSTEM

We really do (1) eat like shit, and (2) refuse to learn to relax the whole organism. And then use asana to get a temporary feeling of cancelling out those behaviors.

It’s easy for Ashtangis to get into running on empty, I think. Little sleep, little food, lots of caffeine, long practices — it’s really easy to turn the system into a treadmill, into a grind. And the physical practice feels intense, and the psychological habit feels compelling, so it’s easy to think the grind is proof of the efficacy of the system. Uh oh, potential for a blind loop…

I don’t think this is just about Ashtanga, by the way. You can do it with anything. I’ve certainly done it with cardio workouts, with academic striving, with corporate ladder climbing.

***

Okay, there’s another zen practice to discuss. Bow to your teacher.

It’s an interesting practice. Especially when you add in the following information: your teacher is whoever stands before you.

Oh, this is easy when you’re talking about your kid (yes, we learn from our kids), your dog or cat (they’re particularly good teachers), or your spouse (provided your relationship is in good shape).

What about when it’s the person you really can’t stand at work? Someone who really sets your teeth on edge?

Yup. That’s part of the practice. Now bow! Yes, bow in your mind to the person who torments you.

Why? ‘Cause it’s time for you to get humble and knock off all the high-horse ego stuff.

You go to a teacher’s Mysore room? Yes, you chose to go. Now BE there.

BE in the meeting room with the person who drives you crazy.

Bowing helps you accede to the situation, to the moment, to the present. Notice I didn’t say “surrender”? People have fits about who they’ll deign to surrender to. Whatever. Surrender is a word. Stop being silly.

Once you are present in the situation, you can learn. From your teacher. Who may be someone you think you don’t like. Someone you don’t think is QUALIFIED. (Yes, I AM laughing at you. And me. And all of us.)

Okay, time to stop thinking. Just bow to your teacher.

It’s a practice. Stop judging this idea with your mind. Just try it. It’s a challenge, and fun even if just on that account.

What if you are just present in the moment and open to the teacher in front of you? What if you learn from everyone, whether you like it or not?

What happens then?

***

And here’s my current teacher. Playing Fort-Da.